Show Cars Week--The 1956 Chrysler Norseman

On the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean lies the wreck of a magnificent ocean liner with some precious automotive cargo still inside. The ship was struck at night while on her way to New York and sank with loss of life.

Somewhere in a cargo hold is a show car that never made it to America for display. It is a 1956 Chrysler Norseman, or rather the 1956 Chrysler Norseman, as only one was ever made. And more amazingly, both the Andrea Doria and the Norseman began their lives in 1953, then sank together three years later.

But what also makes this story fascinating to me is the Norseman's connection to Car Lust. It seems that the Norseman was designed by none other than Virgil Exner, father of fellow Car Lust contributor Virgil Exner, Jr.

And perhaps Mr. Exner, Jr. (From now on referred to as Mr. Exner) should receive credit as co-contributor of this post, as he guided my attempts at describing this amazing show car. When the resources could not answer a question about the Norseman, Mr. Exner was there.

I like show cars that are as close to a production vehicle as possible. But I'm especially fond when the designers and builders push styling and technical stuff out just a bit past production models, to add imagination and interest. And that's where the Norseman shines.

This car looked like it could have entered production the next day, as it didn't have protruding aluminum wings, a plexiglas bubble roof, or spinning turbine blades. It was... a car.

But it wasn't a typical American lead sled of the time either. Here's the wooden body buck used to bend the panels over. Long and low and sleek, the fastback Norseman looked like an early 1960s car, not one from a decade before. The car's name is said to have come from the Exners' Norwegian descent, and Ghia's Italian craftsmanship is unmatched. I can't help but wonder whatever happened to that buck... maybe it's in storage somewhere, waiting to be found.

As mentioned, work commenced on the Norseman in 1953 as its design was finalized. The Ghia team spent 50,000 man-hours and approximately $200,000 to build the car. The work continued until it was finished, then the car was crated for the voyage to New York and loaded deep into the ship.

And most tragically, the American team that designed the Norseman never got to see it.

Its most prominent design elements were the pillarless wraparound windshield, cantilevered roof, and lack of door vent windows (Again at least a decade ahead of its time. The earliest modern car without vent windows I can name is a '68 Camaro.). But would the advance of visibility make the car less safe if it went bottoms-up? Hardly!

Mr. Exner sent me a copy of a 1994 letter in which he had written: "Father had explained its cantilevered roof looked pillarless, but was actually held in tension at the "A" pillars by two 1/4" diameter steel rods which, in theory, were designed to "snap" in a roll-over situation and allow the roof to spring upward." So the rods weren't holding the top up, but rather holding it down? I think the word "brilliant" barely begins to describe the thinking here.

Like the Titanic, very few pictures were made of the completed Norseman because it needed to skeedaddle on across the big pond. After all, it was going to a car show circuit... lots of pictures would be taken of it then, right?

No color photos of the car are known to exist. Even the car's true hues are open to speculation by some. Again, Mr. Exner informed me that the car was a light metallic green, a bit lighter than this scale model, and it had a silver roof.

The lack of photos even caused speculation whether an engine was fitted in Italy, or was there one waiting for it here? But Mr. Exner provided paperwork that shows a 331.1 cubic inch V-8 Hemi with 235 horsepower, connected to a PowerFlite automatic, was in the car before it left the Tuscan shores.

Built by Ghia a year after they built the Lincoln Futura (Which as we all know, later became The Batmobile), the Norseman was 227.5 inches long, 82 inches wide, and 56 inches tall. It had a 129-inch wheelbase. For a comparison, a 2012 Honda Accord 4-door is 32.6 inches shorter, 9.3 inches narrower, 2.1 inches taller; the Honda's wheelbase is 18.8 inches on the wee side.

I think the Norseman's styling was about 10 years ahead of its time (Again, having been styled in 1953); to me, it looks like an early, sleeker 1960s car rather than a typical frumpy, bloated '50s sedan. Its smooth sides and horizontal trim suggested aircraft travel, not unlike a 1959 or '60 Chevrolet... just much better done.

The flip-up headlights were invisible when closed, the tail fins were superbly integrated into its sides, and the wheel openings were nicely exagerrated; thankfully, no fender skirts were tacked on to spoil the effect.

The Norseman's interior was as advanced and elegant as the rest of the car, and its rear quarters suggested a BMW 630-635 Series with a prominent console separating the chairs. The seat belts (2-point lap belts) retracted out of the doors and center consoles; one is visible there on the back seat. All four seats had their own power controls... special lighting was all around the interior. Again, this car was way ahead of its time!

The Rambler Marlin's hind quarters are similar to the Norseman. Was it inspired by the Norseman? Maybe. But before the Marlin, it was on AMC's concept car, the Tarpon, based on the Rambler American. The Norseman also did not have door handles; a push button was fitted instead.

The Norseman has grabbed my attention and will not let go. The more I read about and study this car, the more amazed by it I get. And if I find a kit, a scale model Norseman will grace my shelves some day.

This romanticised image of the Norseman being loaded on the ship does not show the car enclosed in a crate, as it truly was. In fact, that rig looks a little perilous, to be kind. But it's a nice image to suggest the day in 1956 when the car was beginning a trip that it would never finish.

When the Andrea Doria sank, Mr. Exner, Sr., was recovering from a heart attack and surgery. In time, the family carefully told him that his car was lost in the sinking. But Mr. Exner, Sr., took it in stride. Mr. Exner told me, "I might add that when mom and I told father about what happened, he smiled broadly and loved the idea that one of his show cars had become part of one of history's famous ship wrecks. He was very romantically inclined that way, and followed ship wrecks, the Wild West, Joan of Arc, etc."

What's left of the Norseman in 2012? Probably very little. Fifty-six years of shallow salt water are not good for sheet metal, but glass, leather, rubber, plastics, and thicker metals may still survive. I have a book about diving on the Andrea Doria, "Deep Descent," and it seems that china plates, portholes, and photographs are the most popular artifacts brought up from the wreck... nothing was mentioned about finding any pieces of any of the nine cars on board.

So the Norseman lives on as she was, but only in memories, grainy photographs, models, sketches, and paintings. We'll never know the effect it would have had on future cars' styling, but surely some of its advanced design elements and features would have made their way to production.

They say imitation is the highest compliment, and there's a gentleman building a replica of the Norseman. Marty Martino has the car well under way, so maybe soon his Norseman will travel the show car circuit the original one never had a chance to make.

I immediately thought of the Marlin on seeing the back end of that as well, although I admit the way it looks there doesn't thrill me. . .dunno why, it looks like too much going on to me (not to mention killing trunk space). Those 3/4 rear shots look like someone parked a Marlin in between the fenders of a Plymouth, actually. Heh.

Looks like the front seat back swiveled instead of simply folding forward, too, which seems like a neat idea.

A minor point: Volkswagen's 1955 Karmann Ghia (!) had no door vent windows. So, if this was the first prototype design without them, it didn't take long for Ghia to incorporate the idea into a production design.